Siren Song
by LAXgirl
Summary: After saving Roy from an attempted assassination, Ed returns Al to his body. But because of an imbalance in Equivalent Exchange, Al is slowly being drained of life. The only one that can save him is Ed. Too bad though Ed died bringing his brother back…
1. Sacrifice

Disclaimer (and this goes for all future chapters too): Fullmetal Alchemist and all related characters do not belong to me, nor are they being used for profit in the telling of this story.

**Chapter One: Sacrifice**

* * *

"If you don't hurry, Brother, the colonel will be angry. You were suppose to be in his office half an hour ago." 

"The bastard can wait for all I care," came a defiant snarl. "It's not like it's anything important; he just wants us to report what happened in Lior. If he wasn't so lazy and actually read the reports we sent him, we wouldn't have to hike all the way back to Central every time something happens so he can condescend us face to face with that smug little smile of his." A string of murmured expletives then followed accompanied by several colorful adjectives describing said colonel and all his perceived faults.

The hulking suit of armor gave the breathless equivalent of an exasperated sigh. "Brother, you really shouldn't say that. The colonel just wants to know what we're doing right now."

The armor's companion - a lithe, slight-built teenage boy with braided gold hair - snorted and kicked the ground contemptuously. "Like hell he does! He just wants an excuse to get me in front of him so he can berate me and call me short!"

The suit gave another sigh and shook it's head. Sometimes it was just no use trying to talk to Ed when he was in such a pugnacious mood. Pity every time they came to Central and had to see Ed's commanding officer it made him like that. Not to mention the fact that Ed was still upset over their latest false lead.

"What are you going to tell him?" Al asked. "He's not going to be happy to hear the Philosopher's Stone in Lior was a fake."

"He can just go stuff it," Ed murmured, angrily glaring at the ground and anyone else unfortunate enough to make eye contact with him as he and his brother made their way through Central Headquarters. "I'll tell him what happened with that megalomaniac priest, but I swear if he says one thing about my height I'm going to put that smug smile of his in a cast…" As if to emphasis his promise, the young alchemist raised his metal hand and balled it into a fist.

Al just shook his head and silently followed his brother down the hall. Sometimes it just wasn't worth trying to talk to Ed…

The two finally came to an unmarked glass plate door. Ed paused a moment as he came up to the door and took a deep breath as if readying himself for a fight. Then with a confident flip of his braid off his shoulder, he shoved the door open and marched in with an aplomb that seemed to suggest he owned the place. Al demurely followed his brother inside.

The middle of the office was filled with half a dozen separate desks pushed together to form a large central workspace while an executive size desk sat at the head of the room between two large windows. Papers and files lay scattered across the desks in a haphazard parody of order. File cabinets lined the walls, while maps and statistical charts covered the walls. Several soldiers in dark blue military uniforms were there; working at their stations or busying themselves at filing cabinets. One - a blonde woman with a holster and pistol at her side - glanced up at their entrance.

"Edward," she greeted, not looking at all surprised by the older brother's entrance. "The colonel's waiting to see you in his office."

Ed's face twisted into a scowl. "I'll be sure to make him wait longer then."

"Good morning, Lieutenant Hawkeye," Al greeted with a polite bow.

Riza returned the gesture with a smile, quite used to Ed's temper by now to have learned to ignore him. "Good morning, Alphonse." She casually glanced back at Ed. "You'd better get going."

Ed scowled and muttered something unintelligible under his breath, but obediently stalked towards the door on the other side of the room. Al thought he heard the words 'egotistical, lazy, bastard colonel' muttered somewhere in his brother's rant but couldn't say for sure.

With only the barest hint of a knock to announce his entrance, Ed strode into the office in a sweeping flash of red and gold.

Colonel Mustang glanced up from the document he was reading and watched in mild disinterest as the teenager strode forward, plopped himself down in one of the chairs in front of his desk, crossed his arms, and glared at him in an arrogant display of challenge, as if daring him to demand to know why he was late. Al quietly took the chair beside his brother after a small bow and murmured, "Good morning, Colonel."

Roy turned back to his paper and continued reading. For several minutes, silence reigned in the Spartan office. As his eyes continued to sweep back and forth across the page, Roy felt Ed's eyes boring into him, and inwardly smirked. If he wasn't sure it was physically impossible, he would have almost said Ed was trying to alchemize him into flames with just his eyes. If only the boy would learn to direct all that spunk and energy of his onto more important things…

"Are you just going to make us sit here all day?" Ed finally demanded, his voice dripping indignation.

"No," Mustang replied as he flipped the report over in his hand to read the other side. "Just until I finish reading this report."

Ed's eyes flashed. "We have better things to do than to sit around here all day waiting for you to find it in your _busy_ schedule to acknowledge us!"

"Calm down, Fullmetal," Roy said, still not looking up from his report.

If anything, that just made Ed angrier.

"Brother…" Al whispered, noticing the dangerous look in his brother's eyes. But Ed was oblivious to his brother's attempt to calm him.

"Now listen here, colonel-"

"No, _you_ listen," Roy cut him off, finally setting aside his report and spearing him with a fiery look. "Despite the trouble you caused in Lior with that fraudulent priest, there are bigger issues right now that need my attention."

"Like what?" Ed demanded, still looking for a fight.

Roy gave him a narrowed look. "If you must know, Fullmetal, there has been a series of attacks recently around the city by a group of rebels calling themselves the Red Brigade. They have made numerous threats on the Furer's life and have already managed to assassinate two top-ranking military leaders within the last week. They are trying to overthrow the government by assassinating the Furer and anyone else close to him."

This seemed to calm Ed down a bit, and he carefully sat back in his seat. "Have there been any leads?"

"Not yet," Roy sighed, leaning back in his chair. "There is no way to anticipate who or what their next target is, and they leave quickly after each attack so there's been no way for the military to respond in time to capture them.

"Also," he said, reaching for another report on his desk as if to check for facts, "Intelligence has reported the possibility of the rebels making a direct strike on Central Headquarters soon, but we have no confirmed intelligence as to when or even _if_ that will actually happen."

"That doesn't sound good, colonel," Al murmured.

"It's not," Roy agreed and tossed the paper back down onto his desk. "Many in the military are becoming anxious and trying to find reasons to leave Central. The Furer himself has mentioned making a possible "inspection trip" to Eastern Headquarters soon."

"It doesn't look like you're getting ready to go anywhere though," Ed noted. "Looking for your next promotion?"

The Flame Alchemist gave Ed a calculated sideways look. "Possibly. But I have to stop this band of rebels first. They are dangerous and getting bolder with each new attack. No one knows who their next target will be…"

It was then that Ed recognized the uncharacteristic hint of worry shadowing his commanding officer's voice. An unsettling thought suddenly occurred to him: could Mustang be worried about his own safety instead of just looking for his latest promotion? He was, after all, high in rank and had many top-level connections to not only generals and such but also the Furer himself.

"What do you plan to do?" Ed asked, pushing that thought from his head. He didn't like to think of his arch nemesis and ranking officer as anything else but the arrogant, self-assured, manipulative womanizer he always had to deal with when reporting to Central. It just made his life easier that way.

"Without any leads or intelligence to go on there's nothing much I can do right now but wait," the colonel replied, his eyes troubled. "That's another reasons I wanted you to report back to Central. It is not safe for military personal to roam around freely right now, especially since you are a known subordinate of mine. Until this matter is resolved, I want you and Al to remain in Central."

"That's not fair!" Ed shouted. "Al and I have our own agenda. We can't sit around here forever waiting for you and the military to get your thumbs out of your asses to go do something about these rebels. Who knows how long that's going to take! We have to find the Philosopher's Stone."

"It's been four years since you've started searching for the Philosopher's Stone and you still haven't found any reliable leads on it," Roy said, his voice level and stern. "What will a few more weeks matter. After all, wasn't this latest mission of yours to Lior just another dead end?"

Ed's eyes narrowed, anger coloring his cheeks. "Al and I can take care of ourselves," he hissed, refusing to acknowledge the colonel's question.

"I'm sure you can," Roy nodded in a condescending tone. "But for now I want you here where I can keep an eye on you. It shouldn't be too hard for you to keep a low profile, after all…"

Al barely managed to grab his brother in time before the young alchemist lunged across the table at his commanding officer.

"Who are you calling a midget so short he doesn't even need to hide because the enemy can't see him over their boot straps!"

"He didn't go that far, Brother!" Al cried, wrestling Ed away from Mustang's desk.

The Flame Alchemist meanwhile looked on in smug satisfaction. It never failed to amuse him how easily the older of the two could be antagonized into one of his height-related tirades. Standing up from behind his desk, Roy gave Ed a superior smirk. "You're dismissed, Fullmetal. But I want you to report back here tomorrow morning for your next assignment. I promise it'll be something easy to keep you occupied while you grace us with your hopefully short presence here in Central."

Ed said nothing as he shook Al's arms off of him and stood, still fuming at the ears. He angrily adjusted his coat collar - and without even a parting glare at Roy - stormed out of the office. Behind him, Roy smiled to himself. With Fullmetal now stationed in Central for the unforeseeable future, things were definitely going to be more interesting around the office…

"Brother! Brother, wait up!" Al cried as he hurried to keep up with his brother's shorter but angrier stride.

"Oo… Bad report?" Havoc asked as Ed stormed out of the colonel's office and slammed the door behind him, just barely missing Al. The walls vibrated ominously from the force.

"That smug, self-righteous bastard," Ed hissed, barely aware of Havoc through his anger.

"What happened?" Feury hesitantly asked. Although he liked the Elric brothers, he'd learned long ago to be wary of the elder when he was in such a volatile mood. Havoc, Breda, and Falman seemed to share his sentiments as all four men stealthfully moved to the other side of the table away from the fuming State Alchemist. Hawkeye seemed the only one unfazed by Ed's temper.

"That bastard's ordered us to stay in Central until those damn rebels are captured or stopped!" Ed yelled, both hands clenched by his sides.

"That doesn't sound too bad," Havoc said, his cigarette hanging precariously from his lips. "It just means you have to stick around here for awhile. What's the big deal?"

"It's taking time away from Al and me finding the Philosopher's Stone," Ed replied, still looking dangerously close to punching something. "Who knows how long its going to take for them to stop these rebels. If I knew where they were I'd go and take care of them myself right now so Al and I could leave…"

"The colonel's doing everything in his power to stop them," Riza calmly said. "He's not taking this threat idly."

Ed however did not seem to share her confidence in the colonel's ability. "Whatever. Al and I are leaving. We'll see you tomorrow."

The teenage alchemist began to stalk towards the door, but just as he was about open it, the concussive wave of a large explosion shook the office. Stacks of papers toppled over onto the floor, the glass in the windowpanes shook.

"What was that?" Breda yelled as everyone ducked and covered their heads from falling plaster.

The door to the colonel's office flew open and the Flame Alchemist appeared. "What's going on?" he demanded.

"I don't know," Hawkeye replied, her hand subconsciously resting on the butt of her gun. "It sounded like a bomb of some kind."

"Fuery! Dispatch a distress signal to other posts. Tell them Central Headquarters is under attack and needs backup. The rest of you, follow me," Mustang said, heading for the door. "You too, Fullmetal."

"I wasn't about to let you leave me behind anyway," Ed replied as everyone jumped into action and followed the Colonel out the door. Ed immediately fell into step beside the colonel, not about to let anyone think he was actually _following_ the man.

The hallways were filled with other soldiers, all of them hurrying to see what had caused the explosion. As Mustang and his group made their way towards the commotion, other soldiers noticeably moved out of the Flame and Fullmetal Alchemists' way. Both had earned themselves a notable reputation after their State Alchemist review battle several years ago. No one in their right mind was about to go up against either one of them, let alone both at the same time. Plus, if anyone could be trusted to find out what was going on and take care of it, it was one of them…

A familiar face suddenly appeared down the hall, pushing his way through the crowd towards them. "Mustang!" he shouted over the din of voices.

"Hughes!" Roy yelled and hurried towards his friend. "What happened?"

The Intelligence officer looked slightly out of breath, his face a mixture of apprehension and dread. "Rebels. The Red Brigade. They detonated a bomb on the front wall of Headquarters and are trying to storm the building. We don't know how many there are but it looks like there are at least several dozen."

As if to punctuate the severity of the situation, the sudden crack of gunfire sounded somewhere in the distance.

Roy swore under his breath. "We have to hold them off. I sent one of my officers to relay other posts for backup."

"Will they get here in time?" Maes asked. "I don't know what they're after, but the Red Brigade's not known for staying around long after an attack."

"Can we hold them off long enough for reinforcements to get here?" Ed asked.

Mustang and Hughes exchanged looks.

"Maybe if we divided the troops and send half of them around the sides to box the rebels in from the front," Roy said. "It would be a hammer and anvil maneuver. Major Armstrong could lead them. I will stay here and divert their attention until Armstrong is in place."

"I just saw him," Hughes replied. "I'll go tell him about your plan. But what about a third squad? The rebels might slip past us during the fight and escape through the sides."

"I'll go," Al said, stepping forward. "I can watch one side to make sure no one gets past."

"Al…" Ed said, uncertainty tainting his voice.

"I'll be fine," Al assured him. "I can fight and keep the rebels from slipping past Major Armstrong and the colonel. Plus it's not like I'll have to worry about bullets. I'll be fine."

Ed still looked uncertain. In the distance, the sound of gunfire was getting louder.

"I can do this," Al assured him. "I'll be fine."

A distance screamed sliced the air, the gunfire suddenly increasing.

"Fine, go!" Ed yelled, pushing his brother towards Hughes. "But be careful!"

"I will!" Al shouted.

Roy gave Hughes one last nod before the Intelligence officer turned and ran with Al back in the direction he'd come. Roy and Ed both stared after the two with troubled expressions.

"Can we really hold them off long enough for reinforcements to arrive?" Hawkeye said, stepping towards Roy. "It will take at least twenty minutes for other units to respond, and I hate to say it, but you might be one of the ones the rebels are after, colonel."

Mustang nodded stoically. "I know. But we have to do what we can until others get here." Tugging the hem of his glove one last time as if to make sure it was properly in place, he took off towards the sound of battle.

Ed paused only long enough to toss his red jacket aside before clapping his hands together and transforming his automail arm into a two foot long metal blade. "The colonel better leave me some rebel asses to kick," he murmured as he took off after the other alchemist. "It's their fault I'm here in the first place…"

As Ed neared the entrance hall of Central Headquarters he finally saw for himself the devastation the rebel bomb had wrought. A gapping hole was all there was now where a towering stone wall once stood. Rubble lay everywhere along with bodies of dead or injured soldiers. Fire burned in patches amongst the rubble, creating billowing sheets of smoke. The sound of battle was coming from outside, just beyond the ruined front stairs of the building.

Ed stumbled over the smoking debris and hurried towards the sound of gunfire and screams. Outside, the front parade ground was a total war zone. Smoking debris littered the ground. Soldiers and men in civilian clothes with red armbands were engaged in deadly combat - both hand-to-hand and with guns.

As Ed emerged from the crippled Headquarters, a brilliant streak of flames suddenly sliced the air, incinerating everything in it's path. Men in rebel armbands fell writhing to the ground, covered in flames.

Roy Mustang stood like a spool of calm in the midst of battle, almost casually snapping his fingers together to send another plume of flames racing towards the enemy. Soldiers began to rally around him and concentrate their defensive line.

Ed hurried forward to join the fight. He could now count perhaps fifty rebels, at least by what he could see. It was hard to tell with all the smoke and gunpowder choking the air.

Lunching himself into the midst of battle, Ed parried the knife of a rebel fighter away from him with his metal arm. Clapping his hands together, Ed ducked beneath a second swing aimed at his head and pressed his hands to the ground. Bright blue light exploded into the air. When the light disappeared several seconds later, the rebel fighter was encased in a transmuted stone cage that seemed to grow right up out of the ground.

Ed gave the captured man a cocky wink before throwing himself back into the din of battle. Despite the military having more men at its disposal, the rebels seemed to have anticipated the military's inability to organize them in time to mount an effective defense. Ed didn't know how long or how many people he fought. He just kept moving from rebel to rebel; knocking out one, capturing another. The enemy men began to blur into one another until they were nothing but a stream of faceless people. Ed felt like his mind had somehow shut off and he was merely fighting on autopilot. Parry, dodge, jump, block, dodge, transmute. Block, block, parry, thrust, kick, dodge, transmute. Slice, kick, parry, dodge, block, jump. It became a dance.

With a blinding flash of alchemy, Ed removed another rebel from the fight by fusing him to the ground in a shell of transmuted concrete. The man yelled and struggled, but Ed barely heard him over the sound of battle.

He was breathing hard. Strands of sweaty blonde hair hung down around his face. His hand had begun to hurt from all the times he'd clapped it together with his metal one to perform a transmutation. His body ached, every muscles screaming with pain and fatigue. Even his clothes were torn and dirty.

Another plume of fire singed the air, leaving a track of scorched concrete in its wake. Glancing in the direction of its origin, Ed saw Mustang turn and shoot off another blast of fire, falling another rebel that had been trying to sneak up on him. The colonel's face was strained and covered with sweat, his hair beginning to stick to his temples in matted clumps. He was breathing hard too, each new blast of flames draining a little bit more of his strength.

_Where's Al?_ Ed wondered, looking around the body-strewn battlefield. _Or the reinforcements? Shouldn't they have been able to sneak around by now?_

Out of the corner of his eye, Ed saw a rebel fighter suddenly emerge from a cloud of smoke and aim a pistol at his head. Ducking, Ed tucked and rolled away across the ground, dodging a series of bullets that tore up the ground right where he'd been standing only a few seconds ago. Clapping his hands together, the teen pressed his hands to the ground and summoned a concrete hand up out of the ground to crush the man in its embrace. The man struggled and yelled, but his gun uselessly clattered to the ground by his feet.

Ed felt himself starting to get tired. He didn't know how much longer he could keep this up. Even the colonel looked like the battle was starting to wear on him.

Just then a cry went up from across the battlefield. Looking up, Ed saw a tall man with a mustache and blonde curl in the middle of his forehead emerge from behind a screen of thick black smoke billowing from the bombed in entrance hall. Ed couldn't be sure because of all the smoke, but he swore he could see the twinkle of tiny pink sparkles shining around the man like confetti.

"Major!" Ed yelled, never happier to see the man in his entire life.

"Edward Elric," Major Armstrong replied in his usual dramatic way. "Have no fear. Reinforcements have finally arrived."

And it was true. Because behind the towering man stood several squads of men armed and ready to go to their comrades' aide.

"Move out, men!" Armstrong yelled, motioning them forward with a dramatic sweep of his arm. A stream of reinforcements rushed onto the battlefield, opening fire on the invading band of rebels.

The battle began again, this time even more intense than the first.

Ed looked around for the tall figure of his metal brother but couldn't see him anywhere. Unable to find him, Ed was once again pulled into the fight.

Cut, slash, block, kick. Duck, spin, turn, transmute. The dance continued.

At some point Ed resurfaced from the haze of battle and once again found himself near the Flame Alchemist. The colonel looked worse than when Ed had last seen him. His face was now smeared with soot and ash, his hair windswept. The tide of battle was slowly turning in the military's favor, but the fighting was still intense.

"Fullmetal, fall back to Headquarters," Roy yelled over the screams and gunfire as he sent another jet of flames flying towards the enemy. "Regroup with Lieutenant Hawkeye and prepare for a group assault on the enemy to push them back towards Major Armstrong."

"No offense, colonel, but screw you," Ed said as he dodged a spray of bullets from another rebel and dropped to transmute a shield for himself from the ground. Another transmutation later and the rebel was efficiently removed from battle by being sealed in a concrete cage. "I'm not going anywhere."

Roy looked annoyed at his subordinate's disobedience but said nothing as he snapped his fingers and summoned another fiery blast of transmuted air.

"Where are your reinforcements?" Ed shouted as he disposed yet another rebel fighter. "You told Feury to call other posts for backup!"

"They won't be coming," an unexpected voice said behind Ed and Mustang. Both alchemists spun around in surprise.

A man stood there several paces away, a blood red band of cloth circling his upper left arm. He had long black hair, his rugged chin covered with three day old stubble. A jagged scar ran down the length of his cheek from his right eye to his jaw. He was tall and thick in build. His clothes were ragged and torn as was the tattered brown cloak he wore. His nose was long and crooked as if it'd been broken many times and left to heal unset. His lips were twisted into a cocky smile, exposing two rows of yellow-stained teeth.

"You shouldn't expect any reinforcements anytime soon," he said, smiling smugly. "I had my men cut communication wires to Headquarters right before we attacked."

"Who are you?" Roy demanded, stepping towards the man with his fist held out in front of him, thumb and forefinger posed to make use of the flammable material of his gloves.

"My name is Warren Slater," the man replied, apparently unfazed by the colonel's threatening stance, "leader of the Red Brigade."

Roy's face darkened. "What do you want?" he hissed, his hand never faltering from the other man.

"Tsk tsk, colonel. Such bad manners," Slater said. Before Roy or Ed even knew what was happening, a huge concussion wave of power suddenly radiated out from Slater and pulsed the air, brutally knocking both alchemists to the ground.

Ed lay there for several minutes on the cold, rubble strewn ground, unable to move. He felt like he'd just been hit head on by a speeding truck. Every bone in his body felt like it'd just been turned to dust. "What was that?" he choked, weakly pushing himself back to his feet, dazed and battered.

Mustang also looked stunned, staring at the strange man with something akin to horrified dread. A trail of blood ran down his chin from the corner of his mouth. "You're an alchemist," he hissed, pointing at the rebel leader almost accusingly. "You condensed the air around you into a small area then rapidly expanded it to create a powerful concussion wave."

"My, my, you are perceptive," the rebel leader laughed. "But, yes, you are right. I am an alchemist…" He slowly stepped towards the two alchemists. "I believe you asked me earlier what I wanted, Colonel Mustang, and that would be to see you dead. A pity though. Both of you seem like you would be such interesting adversaries. I would have enjoyed fighting with you more, but I fear our time here is drawing to a close."

"Killing me won't do anything to further your cause to overthrow the government," Mustang spat, standing to face the man.

"Perhaps not directly," Slater agreed. "But at least it's a start. If anything, killing you would merely be nipping a future Furer in the bud."

Roy began to raise his hand to throw a deadly burst of flames, but Slater was quicker. Before Roy could dodge, Slater sent another concussion wave at him, knocking him to the ground. As Mustang struggled to his feet again, Slater reached into his cloak and removed something from it's billowing folds. "I wouldn't usually use this," he said as he showed a deadly looking handgun to the battered colonel, "but somehow the force of a concussion wave shattering every bone in the body and turning all internal organs to mush just doesn't possess the same calculated elegance of a single bullet to the heart."

Roy stared at the gun, a thrill of horror going through him. "Fullmetal, run!" he yelled, standing to face Slater. "Run and regroup with the others!"

He knew he could try to use alchemy again, but he doubted it would be any more successful than the last time. His continued flame attacks during battle had significantly tired him, making him slow. He couldn't hope to defeat this man right now in a test of alchemy.

"Are you crazy?" Ed yelled, transmuting his arm into a blade and lowering into a battle stance.

"Fullmetal, for once would you just follow my orders and run!" He couldn't let Slater hurt the boy. The hot-headed teen might be annoying at times and all together frustrating the rest, but he was his subordinate, and thus his responsibility to protect. If sacrificing himself meant earning Ed the time he needed to get away, then it was worth it.

"How touching," Slater remarked. Then with no more fanfare raised his pistol at the colonel's chest - and fired.

"Colonel!"

Everything suddenly seemed to move in slow motion. Roy was almost painfully aware of the bullet speeding towards him. For a brief moment of time he wondered if he would feel any pain before he died.

But the deadly hit never came.

Instead, Roy felt something large shoved into him just as the gun's report echoed through his ears. It took Roy a moment to realize he hadn't been hit. And then another for the horrible truth of the miracle to sink in.

Edward was leaning against him, holding his chest with his only flesh hand. His head was bowed almost to his chest, obscuring his face from view behind a thick curtain of hair.

"Fullmetal!"

Ed didn't answer as his knees suddenly gave out from under him and he slowly sagged to the ground. Roy deftly caught Ed and eased him down, cradling the injured alchemist to his chest. Blood was pouring out between Ed's fingers, staining his shirt a wet, shiny black.

"Pity," Slater sniffed as he aimed his gun at the colonel's head again. "I probably would have let him live if he'd run. Oh well…"

Just as he pulled the trigger, another bullet sliced the air, hitting Slater in the arm and misdirecting the rebel leader's shot harmlessly into the ground several yards to Roy's right. Slater grabbed his bleeding shoulder as a spray of bullets chewed up the ground several inches in front of him.

"We'll meet again," he said as he gave Mustang and the injured boy one last look, then turned and ran the other way. The gunshots continued to drum the air until Riza Hawkeye was suddenly standing in front of Roy, her pistols still aimed after the fleeing rebel even though her magazine clips were now completely empty. The battlefield was suddenly quiet, the rebels having retreated at the sight of their leader's departure.

"Colonel, are you alright?" Hawkeye cried, kneeling down beside her commander. But Roy was barely aware of her. His attention was wholly focused on the bleeding teenager in his arms. A part of him wanted to rant and rave and yell at the boy for being so stupid as to jump into the path of a speeding bullet, but he just couldn't seem to find the heart to.

"Fullmetal? Fullmetal, answer me!" His hand was tightly pressed to Ed's chest, desperately trying to staunch the horrible flood of blood draining the young alchemist of life. He already knew it was a futile attempt though. The shot that had torn a path through Edward Elric's chest was a mortal one.

A small crowd was forming around Mustang and his young subordinate, others drawn to the tragic scene taking place in the middle of the battlefield. A few familiar faces were present. Havoc, Hawkeye, Falman, and Breda - all looking slightly scuffed from battle - silently watched their commander call and shake the youngest member of their group, desperately trying to get some kind of response from him. Just like their commander, they already knew any response they got from the prodigal young alchemist would be short lived.

"Fullmetal! Fullmetal! _Edward_, answer me, dammit!"

This finally seemed to gain the boy's attention as two gold eyes slowly opened and swiveled up to stare at the colonel.

"Shut up, you bastard… Can't you see I'm hurt?"

At first Roy was almost willing to entertain the hope that the alchemist's usual back-talk was a sign that he would somehow pull through. But then he noticed the glazed look in Ed's eyes - the dying flicker of light that reminded him strangely of a flame sputtering in the breeze right before it blew out.

A familiar voice suddenly caught Roy's attention and made him look up.

"Make way! Make way! What's going on here! What happened?"

Pushing his way through several other soldiers Lieutenant Colonel Hughes stopped dead in his tracks at the sight he beheld.

"Dear Lord…" he breathed and rushed to his friend's side. "Roy…What…" he stammered, staring at the boy cradled in his friend's arms. "SOMEONE GO GET A MEDICAL TEAM! NOW!" he screamed over his shoulder at the group of onlookers. The crowd instantly broke up, hurrying to carry out his order. The only ones that refused to leave were those in Mustang's outfit and two other officers Hughes recognized as Lieutenant Maria Ross and Sergeant Denny Brosh.

"We have to get Ed to a hospital," Hughes said, urgently reaching out for the boy in Roy's arms. "Here, give him to me. I'll take him. Someone else go get a car. It'll be quicker if we take him to the hospital ourselves than waiting here for a medical team. We have to-"

"Maes."

Hughes abruptly stopped talking and stared at his friend.

"It's no use," Roy whispered.

The Intelligence officer opened his mouth to protest - to demand that they hurry and get the boy he'd come to see as something like an adopted son help - but then slowly closed it again, his eyes filling with helpless despair as realization set it.

A heavy silence fell, suffocating everyone there under its weight.

"W-where's Al?" Ed weakly murmured, blinking back the ring of darkness tunneling his vision. "Where's Al…? I want to see my brother…"

The boy's request made the soldiers all look up and search the battlefield for the hulking suit of armor that was almost always to be found by his brother's side.

"Someone hurry and find Alphonse," Roy said, struggling to keep his usually calm voice composed.

Breda and Falman jumped into action and hurried away.

"You stupid child," Mustang said as they disappeared from sight. "What were you thinking? I was trying to divert his attention so you could get away." Despite the anger in his voice, his eyes were suspiciously damp. "Why couldn't you just for _once_ have followed my orders?"

A mirthless laugh came from Ed, making him wince despite the colonel's hand still pressing against the bleeding hole in his chest. "I guess I'm just not very good at following orders…" he murmured.

Roy clenched his eyes shut and turned his face away. "You stupid, foolish hot-head…"

"And you're a manipulative, smug bastard, so it really doesn't matter."

Roy looked back down at the boy. It was strange. Edward always acted so strong and self-assured - like nothing in the world could ever touch him - that Roy often forgot just how young Ed really was. Perhaps that was one of the reasons he secretly admired the foul-mouthed prodigy that had wormed his way into his life. But now the Fullmetal Alchemist lay here dying in his arm, so fragile and weak… And all because of him…

Roy began to open his mouth to say something. But anything else he might have said to Ed in his last few minutes of life were never known, as the sound of clanging metal suddenly captured everyone's attention and Ed's younger brother rushed towards them. Behind him, Breda and Falman followed, accompanied by a shirtless Major Armstrong, his tiny blonde curl hanging limply down his forehead.

"Brother! Brother, what happened!" Al cried as he shoved his way past the other soldiers to his brother's side. Despite the lifeless shell he inhabited, Roy could hear the invisible tears streaming down the armor's face in his voice. "Brother! Brother, answer me!"

"Al…" Ed murmured, weakly turning his head towards his brother. "It doesn't look like we're going to get to find the Philosopher's Stone… I'm sorry…"

"Don't say that!" Al wailed, kneeling beside his brother, heedless of the growing puddle of blood under Ed. "Of course we're going to find the Philosopher's Stone! You have to hold on! You can't die! Not now!" A heart-wrenching sob escaped the suit of armor. "You can't leave me!"

Ed felt tears sting his eyes at his brother's tearful pleas. "I'm sorry, Al…"

"Brother, please!"

Ed saw his vision begin to waver. The darkness was slowly creeping in. He was running out of time. "Al…" he whispered. "Come here… While I still have something to Exchange…"

"Wha-?" Al stammered.

"Don't do anything stupid this time while I'm not here to bring you back… I'm just sorry you had to lose everything you did in the first place… Whatever happens, just know that I'll always love you…"

For a moment, no one knew what Ed was talking about or what he planned to do until the young alchemist suddenly clapped his hands together and pressed them to Al's chest plate. An explosion of blue alchemic light burst under the Fullmetal alchemist's touch.

"_BROTHER!_" Roy heard Al scream over the crackling charge of energy as bright blue light consumed the hollow suit of armor. He didn't know how long the transmutation lasted. It could have been second, minutes, or hours. But as the light finally began to recede, he felt the body in his arms suddenly go limp and Ed's arms lifelessly fall back to his sides.

The light disappeared, leaving an empty white void in its wake. Roy and his men furiously blinked their eyes, trying to rid their vision of spots. As sight slowly returned, the first thing Roy noticed was the disturbing stillness of Ed in his arms. The alchemist's eyes were closed, his light blonde lashes gently pressed to his dirt smeared cheeks. He looked strangely peaceful, as if Ed had drifted off to sleep with no reason for fear or regret.

The next thing Roy noticed was that the hulking suit of metal that housed Ed's brother's soul was no longer there by his brother's side. And this was what truly stunned him and everyone else there because in place of the hollow suit of armor now lay the naked body of an eleven or twelve years old boy.

For a moment Roy could only stare. The boy lay face down on the ground, his face turned away from the colonel. His hair was blonde - not the same shade of sun bleached straw as Ed's - but it was blonde. And there was something unsettling familiar about the boy's figure and shape...

As if waking from some troubling dream, the boy gave a tiny moan and shifted off the ground onto his knees. As he shakingly sat back on his heels, a sudden realization seemed to come over him. Slowly bringing his hands up in front of his face, the boy stared with pale gray eyes at his fingers and the soft fleshy pink of his skin. Gasping, the boy looked up at the ring of soldiers staring back at him with stunned looks of shock. A horrified panic filled the boy's eyes as he looked back down at his hands, and then up at the still figure cradled in Mustang's arms.

Tears welled up along the rims of the boy's eyes, and with no further warning he threw himself at Ed's still form. "Brothaaaaaaaar!" he wailed, clutching Ed's shirt and shaking him with all his might as if his very life and sanity depended on it. "Brother, answer me!"

As if breaking herself out of whatever spell had bewitched them at the sight of the young boy's appearance, Maria Ross slowly removed her military jacket and knelt behind him, gently draping it over his shoulders.

But the boy was oblivious to her efforts.

"Brother, answer me! Answer me! _Answer me!_"

Gathering the crying, hysterical boy to her, Ross pulled him away from Ed into her arms, bundling him in her overlarge jacket.

"Let me go!" the boy screamed, fighting against her. "Brother! Brother, answer me! _Brother!_"

"Al," Ross calmly whispered.

The reaction was instantaneous. Alphonse Elric - newly returned to his living, breathing human form - froze, tears pooling in his mercurial gray eyes.

"There's nothing more you can do, Al. Ed's gone," she whispered, hugging the boy as close to her as she could. "I'm sorry. But there's nothing else you can do. He's gone…"

For a moment the boy just sat there in the lieutenant's arms, as if trying to come to terms with what she'd just said. Then with a heart-wrenching sob of agony that seemed to come from the very depths of his soul, Al dissolved into tears and buried his face in Ross' chest, wailing his grief as loudly as his newly formed lungs would allow.

His pitiful cries echoed across the empty parade grounds of Central Headquarters, screaming for his brother to hear him and come back. But the blonde figure in Roy's arms refused to answer.

For Edward Elric, the famed Nationally Certified Fullmetal Alchemist, had long since passed beyond the Gates of Truth and into the cold beyond…

* * *

To Be Continued(?)

* * *

Should I keep going? Feedback is much appreciated. I apologize for the ridiculously long opening chapter, but it went a little bit longer than expected, and I couldn't think of any way to cut it down. 

So let's recap: feedback! Feedback! FEEDBACK! I always judge the possible future success of a story on it's opening chapter.


	2. Imbalance

Thanks for the positive feedback. It really made me want to jump right back on the keyboard and bang out a new chapter. Enjoy!

**Chapter Two: Imbalance**

* * *

Al's voice echoed painfully through Roy's ears. Each plaintive cry felt like a jagged piece of glass to his soul, tearing at his already bleeding heart. 

"I want my brother! Why won't he answer me? He always comes to me when I call! Why won't he answer me?"

Al's helpless sobs were half muffled into Lieutenant Ross' chest, his fists balled in her shirt as if she was the only thing tethering him to reality. She'd begun rocking him back and forth in her arms, comforting him as best she could in his storm of grief.

"I'm sorry, Al, but he can't…" she whispered, struggling to keep her own voice steady as tears pooled in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, but he's gone…"

Roy shut his eyes and looked away, unable to bear the sight. He wasn't going to cry, he kept telling himself. Not here. Not now. Not in front of everyone else. He was their commander. He had to be the strong one everyone else could look to in times of tragedy and grief.

This was the rule he'd always lived by: to be strong and do everything in his power to prove his tenacity and resolve to reach his highest goal - to become Furer. He could not cry; because that was a sign of weakness and would be looked down upon by others.

But still, he found it hard to fight back the sting of tears.

Looking around - if only for a distraction from his own treacherous emotions - Roy saw that Ross was not the only one moved by the younger Elric brother's cries or the sight of Ed's lifeless body still cradled in his arms.

Hughes silently knelt beside him on the ground, his head bowed to his chest with one hand slipped up under his glasses, pinching the inside corners of his eyes. The Intelligence officer's shoulders were slumped, his face twisted with grief. It really wasn't any surprise Ed's death had had such a strong effect on him, Mustang silently mused. Hughes had always treated the Elric brothers as if they were his own - inviting them to his house whenever they were in Central, looking out for them whenever they went on one of their dangerous missions, and basically just trying to make them feel like they were a part of his family.

Hawkeye knelt beside Roy on his other side. The female sharpshooter was strangely quiet, her dark red eyes turned down. Behind her, Breda, Falman, Havoc, and Brosh all stood together, each solemnly surveying the scene with suspiciously damp eyes.

Major Armstrong, however, seemed to have no such reservations about showing his emotions and let streams of silent tears spill down his cheeks. Even his halo of tiny pink sparkles were dull and lusterless.

It struck Roy as odd that such a group of veteran, battle-toughened soldiers could be so moved by another's death. After all, all of them had seen death and tragedy before. It was part of their profession. But who would have ever thought the foul-mouthed prodigy had captured such a large piece of their hearts?

Maybe it was because Ed had died so young. Or maybe it was because he'd given his life to save another person without any regard for his own safety, however foolish it might have been. Or maybe it was because even unto his last dying breath the only thing Edward Elric had been able to think about was his little brother.

It just wasn't fair…

Roy clutched the lifeless body in his arms a little closer, as if trying to convince himself the blonde teen was actually gone. It just didn't seem possible…

"Why won't he answer me?" Al's angry wails cut through Mustang's thoughts like a knife. "He always comes to me when I call! Why won't he answer me!"

Maria Ross could do nothing but hug the boy closer and whisper meaningless words of comfort in his ear.

Al's face was red and wet with tears. Sobbing uncontrollably, his cries tapered off into unintelligent, murmured babble as grief stole him of strength and the will to do anything else but grieve. His whole body sagged in Ross' arms, shaking with grief and shock from his own return. The lieutenant gently rocked him back and forth, hugging his sobbing form to her.

The distant warble of ambulance and military vehicles echoed across the empty battlefield that had once been Central Headquarters' front parade grounds.

Armstrong slowly stepped forward. "We need to get Alphonse to a secure location. If anyone else finds out what happened here, he could be taken to a military laboratory for human transmutation research and he does not deserve that, nor is he in any condition to be seen by other people right now…"

Roy slowly looked up at the towering blonde man. "My office," he said in a strangely tight voice. "Take him to my office. There's a couch there he can use to rest. Don't let anyone see you. If anyone asks, tell them I've given you orders to keep silent. No one but those under my direct command are allowed to enter. Is that understood?"

Armstrong nodded once, then reached down for the bundled form in Lieutenant Ross' arms. "Here, I'll carry him."

"I have him," Ross shook her head, then stood. She cradled Al's sobbing form to her, his body curled in a tiny ball against her chest.

Together Ross and the major turned and hurried back in the direction of the gutted Headquarters.

Roy stared after them for several minutes. Al's voice still echoed hauntingly in his ears. _Why won't he answer me? He always comes back to me when I call._

It was true. Ed had always answered his brother's calls. But now he never would again. And it was all because of him…

The sound of an emergency medical vehicle screeching to a halt several yards in front of them brought Roy back to the present. Half a dozen uniformed medical officers jumped out of the truck and fanned out across the battlefield, checking bodies for survivors.

"Colonel, are you alright? Are you injured?" one of them called, hurrying towards him.

"No. I'm uninjured. But-" He glanced back down at Ed. _Why won't he answer me? He always answers me when I call…_

The medical officer reached out and pressed two fingers to the underside of Ed's jaw. "I'm sorry, Sir. He's dead."

Roy nodded. It was just a confirmation of what he already knew.

It was with great hesitation, Roy found, that he released Ed's body over into the medical officer's care who carefully laid him out on the ground just beyond the pool of blood surrounding Roy -- _Fullmetal's blood!_ Roy realized with a jolt. Another medical officer appeared and spread a large canvas bag out beside the boy.

Together, the two of them hoisted Ed's limp body up off the ground and into the bag. Roy shakingly stood and turned away as they began to zip the bag up - its long track of teeth making a horrible tearing-like sound as the zipper run up the length of Ed's body, sealing him inside. He couldn't bare to watch. He didn't want to see the boy's face be swallowed by a lightless tomb of impartial black cloth.

Carefully, the two medical officers grabbed either end of the bag and carried it towards a waiting truck that had pulled up several yards away. A row of other body bags lay lined up beside the truck, one as indistinguishable from the next. The two officers gently lowered the canvas bag at the end of the row, and walked away, going to get the next one for the growing line.

Roy felt nausea well up inside him at the sight. It wasn't right. If anyone was suppose to be in that body bag right now, it should have been him! Ed had been his responsibility to protect. Not the other way around. From the first moment Ed had walked into his office four years ago - his eyes all full of fire and challenge - he'd known he'd do anything to protect the boy. He didn't know why he felt so protective of the boy, but he'd made it one of his top priorities over the years to keep tabs on the temperamental prodigy.

"Colonel? Are you alright?" came a voice behind him. Hawkeye.

Mustang didn't answer, unable to form a reply. Was he alright? He'd just had one of his men - a child!- die right there in his arms. No. He most certainly was not alright…

Roy slowly raised his hands and stared at them. His gloves were stained red, soaked with the blood of a fifteen year old boy. He could no longer see the alchemy arrays on the backs of his hands through all the blood. It was like they'd never even been there. He could almost feel Ed's blood soaking through his gloves onto his hands, staining his skin with something he could never hope to wash off.

"Colonel?" Riza's worried voice came again.

Not saying a word, Roy bowed his head to let a fringe of dark black hair obscure his face - then walked away.

* * *

Al looked almost peaceful laying there on the colonel's couch under a dark blue military blanket. Roy found himself transfixed by the resurrected boy as he watched the gentle rise and fall of the boy's chest underneath the blanket. He leaned back in the chair he'd pulled up next to the couch to watch Al sleep. 

The boy's breathing was slow and rhythmic, the result of several milligrams of strong sedatives. Roy had been very careful in finding a trained military nurse to examine Al that could be trusted to keep her silence. Amidst all the chaos and confusion the rebel attack had caused, he'd been lucky to find one at all. He'd only now been able to escape the emergency security meetings and intelligence reports to make it back to his office. Outside, dusk had long since fallen and the moon come out, bathing Central in its ghostly white light.

Lieutenant Ross had refused to leave the boy's side the entire time Roy had been away. It was only when the exhausted colonel returned from his meetings, still carrying the weight of battle heavily on his shoulders, that she'd allowed him to order her home to rest. He'd watch the boy now himself, he'd said. His other soldiers had also seemed reluctant to leave and stayed to somberly keep vigil outside his office.

Mustang studied Al's pale face, noting the haggard, grief-stricken look that still shadowed the corners of his face even in his sleep. According to the nurse, Al was physically as healthy as an eleven year old boy could be. Ed had returned him perfectly. But mentally…

Mentally the boy was a shattered wreck. He was suffering from both grief from his brother's death and shock from the unexpected return of his body. It was too much for him to deal with at once. Roy couldn't even begin to imagine what is was like for the last surviving Elric to be finally resurrected to his original body, but at the sacrifice of his older brother.

As if hearing the colonel's thoughts, Al gave a tiny moan and shifted in his sleep. A quiet sob hitched his rhythmic breathing. "Brother…" he murmured plaintively in his sleep, before falling quiet again, a single tear slipping down his cheek.

Slowly - almost hesitantly - Roy reached out and brushed the salty tear track from the young boy's face. Leaning back in his chair, Roy watched the salty liquid disappear into the flammable material of his glove. He'd changed his gloves earlier that afternoon after the rebel attack. But despite a clean pair of gloves and a fresh change of clothes, he swore he could still feel Ed's blood staining his hands.

It had been his responsibility to protect the boys. And he'd failed. Miserably. Ed had died saving him from an assassin's bullet. It should have been him that died. Not Ed. Because of his own ineptitude he'd allowed one of his subordinates to get killed. He owed Ed a blood debt now. And the only thing he could think of to repay such a debt was to look after Ed's younger brother. It was the least he could do in Fullmetal's memory. After all, it was his fault Al no longer had an older brother to look after him…

But the question that remained and continued to haunt the colonel's mind was: did he really believe he could protect the last remaining Elric brother? He'd already failed and lost one. Could he protect the other?

He just didn't know…

* * *

If this was Heaven, Hell, or whatever lay _beyond_, Edward Elric was rather disappointed. For all he could see, Death was nothing but an empty void of darkness. There was no up, down, right, or left - just an endless sea of darkness that stretched out for all eternity around him. He felt like he was floating, but as if he was standing upright at the same time. He also felt strangely weightless, as if he no longer had a body weighting him down. All together, it was a rather odd, disjointed feeling. 

Despite these strange paradoxes though, Ed was bored. He didn't know what exactly he'd expected to happen after death, but he'd kind of expected something a little bit more interesting.

Sighing - or at least what felt like sighing in his odd, disembodied state - he gazed around the empty darkness.

_No giant all-seeing eye. No chattering black creatures. Not even that huge creepy Gate. How boring… _he huffed.

_That is because you do not belong here, alchemist,_ a voice suddenly echoed through the darkness. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once, as if it'd originated from the very darkness he floated in.

_Who are you?_ Ed demanded, looking around wildly. _What is this place?_

_This is the Middle-ground, neither inside the Gate or out. It is a place in between. A place you are not meant to be._

_What? Why didn't I go through the Gate? I thought that's where all people go when they die._

_You cannot go through the Gate. You do not belong there. Nor do you belong here._

_Then where **do**_ _I belong? _Ed demanded, starting to get annoyed with these mysterious riddles. _I died getting my brother's body back and saving that bastard colonel's life. Why can't I go through the Gate?_

_Because you gave more than what was required for Equivalent Exchange. You have created an imbalance in the Law of Equivalent Exchange by sacrificing too much._

_Too much? _Ed echoed. _How did I give too much?_

_You would have died regardless of if you had sacrificed your life or not for your brother's body. But it was still a sacrifice. You gave up your own remaining life force to activate the Exchange. But in doing so you over-exceeded the necessary price._

_How did I do that? _Ed shouted into the darkness. _My life for my brother's body. It was an equal exchange._

_It was not. You forget the four years of suffering and hardship you endured in your quest to return your brother to his original form. The time and energy you devoted to that was also factored into the Exchange._

Ed floated in the weightless void of darkness for several minutes of unbroken silence. _You mean I didn't really need to exchange my life? _he asked. _I could have just brought Al back with the four years we spent looking for the Philosopher's Stone?_

_No. A life for a life. That is Equivalent Exchange. But your life coupled with four years of searching tipped the scales of Equivalent Exchange. It was too much. Your sacrifice has created an imbalance in the Laws of Equivalency. If the Exchange is not balanced soon, the subject of the Exchange will suffer a backlash. It will be destroyed in the universe's attempt to compensate for the imbalance._

Despite his incorporeal form, Ed felt something cold shoot through him like a spike of ice. _You mean Al will die?_ he cried, horrified.

_Yes. Your brother was the subject of the Exchange. Thus, he is subject to the Imbalance's attempt to correct itself. Even though he was perfectly returned to his original form, his life is slowly being drained by the forces that bind him to the Law of Equivalent Exchange. Even now, he has already begun to Waste._

_That's not fair! If he dies then he will have gained nothing, and everything I sacrificed to bring him back will have been for nothing! _Ed shouted into the darkness. _That goes against the Law of Equivalent Exchange!_

_He was returned to his original form, but the Exchange does not extend to the length of his life. Your Exchange was only to return him to his original body, not for the guarantee of his continued existence. Thus, that must be sacrificed to make up for the Exchange's Imbalance._

_You can't do that! _Ed screamed. _There has to be something I can do! You can't take my brother! I won't let you! Tell me what I have to do! Tell me what to give!_

_You have already given too much, _the Voice said.

_Don't give me that bullshit! Tell me what I have to do to save Al! That's what all this is about in the first place: exchange! Tell me what I have to do to stop this Imbalance from killing Al!_

There was a long, suffering pause which seemed to stretch on forever. For a moment Ed feared the Voice wasn't going to answer him or had somehow left. But then the Voice finally spoke.

_You must fix the Imbalance._

Ed suddenly had the urge to kill whatever was talking to him, regardless of him or the mysterious Presence not having a corporeal body. _And just how do I do that? _he growled, struggling to keep his cool.

_You must go back from whence you came and right the Imbalance. But you must hurry. The Wasting has already begun, and time is different here than what it is on either side of the Gate._

Edward paused. Either Side of the Gate? That almost implied there was another side besides his own…

_How do I do that?_ he instead asked, choosing to concentrate on the problem at hand. He could wonder about the Voice's mysterious hint later when his brother wasn't in danger of being killed by a backlash of Equivalent Exchange. _I'm technically dead. It's not like I can just go back to my body._

_It is true that a life is needed in exchange for a life. That was how you were able to return your brother to his original form. You would not have been able to do so without sacrificing another life. But because of the imbalance in the amount you gave for the Exchange, you are subject for a Return-Exchange._

_You mean I can somehow come back to life? _Ed asked, hoped flooding his incorporeal form.

_It is not that easy, _the Voice replied. _It is true you can use the Return-Exchange due to you to return to your world, but you must first pass over into the Gate of Truth and exit through its doors. That is the only way to get back._

Edward did not hesitate in his response. _I'll do it. Anything to save Al. Just tell me what I have to do._

There was another pause from the omnipresent Voice.

_Once you have crossed over into the Gate of Truth, you must find the Gate that leads to your world and seek passage through it from the Gatekeeper._

_Gatekeeper? _Ed said.

_The one that watches the Gate of Truth and regulates all Exchanges that pass through it._

Ed suddenly had the mental image of a giant lidless eye staring down at him from a height beyond two towering doors of black stone. Had that been the Gatekeeper? If so, then it would not be the first time he'd met it.

_I'll go. I don't care who or what the Gatekeeper is. Just take me back to my brother._

_Very well_, the Voice replied.

Before Ed even knew what was happening, he felt his incorporeal body begin to grow light, like he was fading out of existence into another world. The darkness began to recede, as though brightening with the first pale hint of dawn. And then-

He was inside the Gate of Truth.

To Be Continued…

* * *

Please review! It's Equivalent Exchange! I'd love to hear what you thought. 


	3. Tears and Darkness

Author's Note: Big thanks to those of you that reviewed! To those who didn't… just know that I have hit-counters and am very disappointed in the number of lazy, lurking readers out there. (gives pointed glare)

Warning: Some slight (cough cough… ahem) swearing this chapter. You've been warned.

**Chapter Three: Tears and Darkness**

He didn't really remember the way things looked and felt before his soul was sealed in a lifeless suit of armor four years ago. It felt so long ago. He remembered that sunlight was suppose to be bright and golden and feel warm on his skin. Pale morning sunlight filtered in through the windows, but the world seemed strangely dull as if it was actually some off shade of gray. Everything felt cold, like a permanent chill had crept over him and seeped down into his heart.

He felt empty. He remembered a time long ago when he remembered feeling warm inside - when he'd still had a reason to be happy. But those memories were nothing but the hazy ghosts of faceless people and long sun-golden hair now hidden somewhere in the darkest depths of his mind. He felt cold and empty inside - like a hollow suit of armor. He could feel nothing. The rough texture of the military blanket over him, the smell of the tasteless food beside him, the presence of the man sitting in a chair beside the lumpy couch he lay on. None of it mattered. Not even the cottony fuzziness in his head or the dry scratchiness in his throat from too many sedatives. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered now except the cold emptiness in his heart.

"Please, Al. You have to eat."

"I don't want anything," came a faint, raspy reply from the one on the couch.

Roy helplessly ran a hand through his hair, obviously starting to get frustrated with the boy's despondent apathy. But Al didn't care. He had no reason to care now.

"Al, please," the man pleaded, leaning forward in his seat. "Just a couple of bites. That's all I'm asking."

"I don't want any." Turning away from the untouched bowl of oatmeal a worried looking Hawkeye had brought for him, Alphonse pulled his limbs closer to his body and miserably curled in on himself as if trying to escape the painful reality he'd woken up in. He felt so cold and empty inside. How could he possible eat anything when he felt so empty?

Roy leaned back in his chair, frustrated and torn. It had been the same ever since Al woke up almost an hour before. At first Roy hadn't even been aware the boy was awake - having been lightly dozing in the chair he'd pulled up beside Al the night before. His neck hurt from the odd position he'd fallen asleep in, and his body ached with the lingering strain of yesterday's battle. It was only when a soft, almost barely audible sob sounded from the crumpled mound of blankets on the couch that Roy had startled out of his sleep.

Even in the pale light of a new day, the youngest - no, _last_ - remaining Elric mourned his brother's passing with a violence that made Mustang feel like an unwelcome voyeur to the poor boy's pain. He'd tried comforting the boy as best he could in the uncomfortable situation he'd suddenly found himself in now that Al was awake. He felt helplessly out of his element, like a fish trying to walk on land. He'd never had to comfort another person's pain like this before. He couldn't bring himself to call Lieutenant Ross or someone else for assistance though. This was something he had to do. The boy was _his_ responsibility now.

The boy had cried for almost half an hour - the pain of his brother's death still an open, bleeding wound - until he'd finally tapered off into helpless, muffled sobs. After that, Al had become frighteningly silence, never speaking except to refuse food, water, and comfort from the dark-haired colonel. He just lay there on the couch - a silent tear trickling down his face every now and then - as if he'd lost all reason to live and consigned himself to laying there until grief finally drained him of life and allowed him to be reunited with his lost older brother. Roy felt sickened by the sight. Wasn't there _anything_ he could do to help?

"Al…" he hesitantly began. What could he really say to the boy that wouldn't sound like empty condolences or meaningless words of comfort? He'd never really been good at expressing his feelings. "I… I don't know if I can ever truly understand what you're going through right now, but I do know what it's like to lose a loved one…"

The boy on the couch said nothing, another silent tear rolling down his cheek. It was like he wasn't even really listening, lost in his own little world of grief.

The Flame Alchemist however forced himself to go on, desperately trying to reach the younger brother of the one he'd failed to protect. "Your brother will be sorely missed… He was a foul-mouthed hot-head at times, but I've never seen anyone as skilled in alchemy as him, even by people more than five times his age. Fullme-- _Edward _was special. He lived to help other people. That's why I believe he searched so fiercely for the Philosopher's Stone - he wanted to return you to your original form. That's also why he stepped in front of that bullet. He upheld the alchemist's code to help other people until the very end…"

A muffled sob came from the couch, Al burying his face in the blankets as a fresh wave of tears streamed down his face. Roy knew how painful it must have been for Al to be reminded just how special his older brother had been, or just how much he'd lost in Edward's untimely death. But sometimes to begin the healing process, one had to be reminded of the person they'd lost and remember the legacy that person had left behind, even if it carried with it the lingering pang of knowledge that it should have been longer.

"I'm so sorry, Alphonse," Mustang whispered, hiding his face behind a curtain hair. "If there was any way for me to, I would trade places with Ed in an instant if only to bring him back to you."

"It's not fair!" an angry wail suddenly came from the couch, Al speaking out for the first time since his brother's death.

At first Roy thought Al was railing against him and the unfairness of Ed dying when it should have been him that died in the attack - just like what Roy already believed. But as he took in the sight of the boy's helpless tears and unchanneled rage, he slowly began to realize that the boy wasn't blaming him, but rather lashing out at the world and all its cruel injustices.

Al's hands were curled into fists, twisting the corner of the blanket between his fingers in a helpless burst of rage that reminded Roy painfully of Al's older more temperamental brother. "This wasn't Equivalent Exchange! Brother didn't get anything in exchange! It's not fair! He shouldn't have had to die! What did he get in exchange for how he died?"

"He got your body back," Roy calmly replied, his eyes solemn. "His last dying wish was to see you returned to your original body. And I believe he died happy knowing you finally were."

"I don't care," Al angrily murmured, curling deeper into his cocoon of blankets. "I'd rather still be sealed in a suit of armor than not have my brother."

Al nestled his face deeper into the pillow, clenching his eyes shut as a new line of tears traced it's way down his cheek. "It hurts so much…" he softly whispered, almost as if to himself.

"What hurts?" Roy demanded, instantly leaning forward as if to check the younger alchemist for some injury he or the nurse might have missed.

Al lay there silent for several moments, his pale gray eyes staring past the colonel into nothing. "Everything," he finally murmured, his voice as hollow and dead as the empty suit of steel he'd once inhabited.

Al shut his bloodshot eyes and turned his face away from Roy. "I forgot how much it hurts to be human. I forgot what it's like to feel pain. When I was in that armor I didn't feel anything. But now it feels like I'm being torn apart inside and there's nothing I do can do to stop it. It almost makes me wish my brother just left me the way I was, or somehow let me die in his place. Anything would be better than this…"

"Don't say that, Alphonse," Mustang said, his voice suddenly stern. "Your brother sacrificed his life to bring you back. You and he spent the last four years searching for a way to restore you to your original form. You are dishonoring Fullmetal's memory by saying you wish he'd never done what he did. What he did was his last selfless act of love for you. He knew he was going to die and wanted to give you the last thing he could to make you happy before he passed away."

Al slowly opened his eyes and looked back up at the colonel. "I'm sorry, Sir, but no matter what you say, I'd rather have my soul still attached to an empty suit of armor than have my real body but not my older brother…" As if suddenly drained of energy, Al nestled his cheek back down into the pillow and let the flood of tears that had been pooling in his eyes for the last few minutes finally fall. Surrendering himself to the inescapable pit of despair that rose up to swallow him as he was once again reminded his older brother was no longer there to comfort him or wipe away the tears, Al lost himself to grief.

The colonel helplessly watched the boy turn away from him and curl into a tiny ball, his shoulders quaking with muffled sobs. Unable to do anything else, Roy reached out and laid a gentle hand on the boy's shaking back. But Al seemed unaware of the colonel's small offer of comfort.

Despite all his power and influence, all his different techniques of coercion and subtle manipulation, sitting there watching the small boy no older than the tender age of ten mourn the passing of his last living relative, Roy suddenly found all of his abilities utterly useless. And for the first time in his entire life Roy Mustang found himself completely helpless…

* * *

"That fucking liar! If I ever get back to wherever the hell I was, I'm going to rip that fucking Voice apart - body or no body!" an angry snarl echoed across the empty wasteland of white that stretched out into all eternity. Nothing moved to answer the boy's angry threat, because there was simply nothing there _to_ answer him. All that seemed to exist was him and the endless void of white. 

Edward looked around him, almost foaming at the mouth with rage. "You hear me, you liar!" he yelled and shook his fist at the empty dome of white that stretched out overhead like some kind of artificial sky. "If I ever met you again I'm going to kill you! This isn't the Gate of Truth!"

Ed hadn't known quite what to expect when the omnipresent Voice of whatever Heaven or Hell he'd found himself in had said it was going to transport him to the Gate of Truth. He'd been to the Gate of Truth before and this certainly wasn't it. He remembered darkness and chattering black creatures, and… eyes. Thousands and thousands of _eyes_ staring back at him from the depths of Truth and time. Never in all his times to the Gate - first to resurrect his mother and then to barter his arm for his little brother's soul - did he ever remember the Gate being so… _white_. This had to be some kind of a mistake or cruel joke of whatever higher power that brought him there.

"You lying bastard!" he continued to rant as if whatever had transported him to there could still hear. "This isn't the Gate of Truth!"

"Of course it is," a gentle voice suddenly said behind him.

Ed spun around on his heels. He hadn't been expecting anyone to actually answer him. There wasn't anyone there _to_ answer him!

But it seemed Irony was not quite done with the confused alchemist that day; because standing right behind him only several feet away most certainly was someone. Only who - or what - that someone was was still up for debate.

The strange newcomer was obviously human. But Edward could make out no distinguishing characteristics or features. It's skin seemed to radiate light, haloing it in a shimmering glow so that all Ed could see was the basic outline of a human body. It (like everything else in this empty void) was white, like a shining star descended to earth in human form.

Ed was starting to get sick of the monochromatic color scheme.

"Who are you? Are you the Voice from before?" he demanded, glaring at the being.

"No. I am not the Voice of Knowledge. I am a guide sent to lead you to the Gate," it replied. It's voice was soft and feminine - like the soothing caress of a parent.

For reasons he couldn't explain, Edward immediately felt himself relax. There was something oddly familiar about the voice. As if he should already know who it was…

"How do you know I need to find the Gate?" he said.

"I have been told," the entity replied. "You do not belong here," it went on. "Your soul is in a state of unbalance. It still retains threads to the other Side, as does your brother to the Gate of Truth and the Law of Equivalent Exchange. Isn't that why you seek passage back through the Gate - to save him from the Imbalance?"

Ed stared at the entity, feeling strangely disarmed by its blunt deduction of the situation. "Yes. I have to save him. It's my fault he's in trouble now. He only just got his body back. I can't let anything happen to him."

The shining figure seemed to find that answer acceptable, and nodded. "The way back to your Side of the Gate is long and arduous. You must hurry. Your brother has already begun to Waste. He will not last long once the process enters its final stage."

"Show me how to get back," Ed pleaded. "I have to save him."

The featureless being slowly raised a hand and pointed into the distance over Ed's left shoulder. "There," it whispered.

Ed followed the glowing finger with his gaze and met a startling, unexpected sight.

When he'd first appeared inside the Gate of Truth, every direction he'd looked was nothing but an empty sea of white. No matter which direction he'd turned there was nothing to be seen. But now, looming in the distance like a blotch of sickness in this perfect world of white stood a patch of darkness. It was dark and foreboding, like an impenetrable wall of shadows.

"Where-?" Ed stammered. He was certain that had _not_ been there before.

"You must hurry," the entity said, motioning him towards the patch of darkness. "That is the pathway to the Gate. You cannot waste anymore time here. Alphonse does not have much time left."

Ed nodded and was about to speed off when he suddenly froze. He slowly turned back to the being. "How do you know my brother's name is Alphonse?" he suspiciously asked.

"I know many things about you and your brother," the entity replied, its voice warm and gentle, like the very intonation of Love itself. "From the first word you spoke to the first time you drew an alchemy circle. I was there when you took your first breath of life and I remember the way you looked just before Death stole my last."

Edward could only stare at the glowing being, his heart swelling with a hope he was almost afraid to entertain.

As if reading the hopeful, frightened, pleading, uncertain look in Ed's eyes, a ripple passed over the entity's face -like the surface of a quiet pond buffeted by a gentle breeze. Features slowly emerged from behind the being's glowing face - and then Ed finally knew his guide's identity.

"M-mom?" he shakingly whispered, as if afraid to believe what he actually saw.

Trisha Elric smiled back at him, her features lit by a gentle glow of otherworldly light. "Edward," she smiled. "My, you've grown…"

That was all it took to tear down the last little bit of hesitation Edward had; for with no more fanfare or pause, he launched himself into his mother's waiting arms.

Tears tumbled down his cheeks as he clutched his mother's glowing form, sobs of happiness, disbelief, and utter longing jumbling his words together into a barely intelligible string of speech. "M-mom… Mom!" he sobbed. If it was possible, he hugged her even tighter, his face buried in the crook of her neck as if afraid she'd disappear if he relinquished his hold on her for just one second. "Al and I missed you so much!" he cried, sobbing out all his pain and loss only another orphaned child could understand. "We were so sad when you died, we didn't know what to do. We were so scared… so alone…"

"I know, Edward, I know…" his mother softly whispered, stroking his hair and rubbing his back just like how she always used to do when he was young. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to be there for you. I'm so sorry…" Her voice was heartbreakingly sad, filled with the anguish of a mother unable to do anything to stop her child's pain. "I'm so, so sorry…"

Ed had to fight to find his voice. "W-we tried to bring you back…"

"I know, dear."

"We failed…"

"I know."

"I'm sorry."

Trisha Elric said nothing but hugged her son closer. Ed didn't know how long he stood there like that - wrapped in his mother's embrace. It could have been seconds or hours or days. He didn't know. Nor did he really care. All he knew was that he finally had his mother back.

Slowly, Trisha leaned out of her son's embrace. "You have to go now, dear," she said, cupping his face in both hands so she could look him directly in the eyes. "Time is running out."

"But I don't want to leave you," Ed murmured, tears blurring his vision.

Trisha smiled sadly. "I know, dear. But Alphonse needs you, and you don't belong here. It's not your time yet. I promise you though, when it is your time, I'll be the first one waiting here to greet you."

"Do you promise?" Ed asked, suddenly feeling like a small child unwilling to leave his mother's side.

His mother smiled softly. "Of course." Hugging him tightly one last time, she kissed him on the forehead. "Take care of yourself and your brother," she said. "And be nicer to that colonel. I know he seems difficult at times, but he truly does care for you and Al."

Ed didn't know what to say and stared at his mother as she slowly stepped away. "Be careful, dear…" she whispered, and then, "I love you."

Ed began to open his mouth to say something - anything to prolong their inevitable separation; but just as he began to speak, he felt something invisible - like a giant hand - suddenly reach out and grab him, pulling him backwards away from his mother. Trisha Elric stared after him, her face haloed in golden light.

"Mom!" Ed yelled, but his cry was swallowed by the sound of rushing air as he was violently pulled backwards into the hole of darkness.

"_MOM!_"

The last thing Ed saw before the world turned black was his mother's gentle face staring after him, her lips pulled into a bittersweet smile.

And then everything went dark.

Edward was thrown to the ground with no more care than a sack of potatoes.

"Bastard…" the blonde teenager hissed under his breath as he shakingly pushed himself back up onto his feet. Why did the Gate or whatever higher being that oversaw it seem to like hurting him so much every time he came here?

Standing, Edward slowly took stalk of his surroundings. It was dark - much like the first place he'd found himself after he'd died. But unlike in the Middle-ground - or whatever the hell that annoying Voice had called it - he now had a clear sense of up, down, right, or left and was aware of solid ground under his feet. He was also aware of the emptiness around him - like he was standing in the middle of a dark, empty stage.

His mother was no where to be seen - just like he'd already suspected. He hadn't expected her to follow him, but still, he couldn't help but feel a stab of pain knowing he'd once again lost her to the Gate.

"Hey!" he yelled into the darkness. "I demand to see the Gatekeeper!"

Nothing moved to answer him.

Ed looked around. An angry growl echoed through the darkness. "Fucking bastards… all of them," he swore under his breath. He had no idea who the 'bastards' in question really were, but it made him feel a little bit better to blame _someone_ for his current situation.

At a lost to do anything else, Ed began to walk, his direction uncertain. He knew he had to find the Gate, but he had no idea where it actually was. His mother had failed to tell him where he needed to go once he went through the gate of darkness.

How long he walked, he didn't know. The emptiness and utter darkness was disorienting. But he kept walking. He had to find the Gatekeeper and he wasn't going to stand around all day waiting for it to come to him. He had to find a way out of the Gate and back to his brother. Al needed him. He refused to lose anyone else he loved to the Gate, especially for something that was essentially his fault.

Ed walked for what felt like forever. It wasn't long before he was beginning to wonder if he was going in the right direction, or was just getting himself hopelessly lost further inside Gate. He probably would have begun to panic as time wore on and he still saw no sign of the mysterious Gatekeeper or anything else in this empty world of darkness, but then-

He suddenly ran into something hard.

Rubbing his nose, Ed backpedaled and stared at the thing he'd so unceremoniously run into face first. At first he saw nothing. But as he continued to stare, he slowly began to realize what he'd run into was larger than him and that he had to crane his head up to make out the outline of the mysterious object.

Ed gasped as realization hit him like one of Winry's wrenches.

He'd finally found the Gate of Truth.

Looming in front of him in the darkness stood a giant set of doors. They were massive, like the doors to a giant's lair. Images were carved into its surface: suns, moons, alchemy arrays, and symbols in some ancient language. It was dauntingly foreboding and strange.

But Edward was not one to be impressed by ancient carvings or symbols. He had to get back to his brother.

Rushing to the doors, Ed pushed against them, struggling to open them. But they refused to budge.

Not willing to admit defeat, the teenage alchemist stubbornly pushed harder, cursing and swearing under his breath as the doors still refused to yield.

_The Gate is locked. Only I have the power to open it. Nothing passes through it without my permission._

Ed spun around. There, staring down at him from the darkness like some disembodied demon, hovered a giant lidless eye.

The Gatekeeper…

Behind it and around, multitudes of other eyes blinked into existence, staring down at Ed like some demonic panel of faceless judges. Ed felt and heard more than saw the movement of other… _things_ in the darkness - chattering black creatures with childlike faces and sharp tearing claws. He secretly suppressed a shudder.

"Let me pass!" Ed demanded, glaring at the lidless eye. If it had been anything other than an immortal entity born from the very fabric of the universe, the giant eye might have thought twice about denying the deceptively small alchemist. But the Gatekeeper was not an entity to be ordered around or intimidated.

_No. You have not paid the Toll. You do not have the right to pass._

"Like hell I don't! I died in exchange for my little brother's body, but now he's dying because you and whoever else running this godforsaken place say I gave too much, and that now there's an imbalance! I have every right to pass! I gave too much, so I'm entitled to a return exchange! Now let me through!"

_No. What you want exceeds the excesses of your original Exchange. You cannot pass._

Ed growled, struggling to remain calm. But the Fullmetal Alchemist and calm were as just about as soluble as water and oil.

"Let me fucking through!" he bellowed at the Gatekeeper. "Before I go up there and punch out your ugly eye!"

_No,_ the Gatekeeper once more said, it's voice resonating from the very depths of the void. _Even if you had enough, you still would not be allowed through. A life for a life. That is Equivalent Exchange. You gave your life in return for another. But there is no life in return for yours. You do not have the necessary toll to pass._

Edward clenched his teeth together in rage. "My _brother_ is slowly wasting away because of your damn Equivalent Exchange. His life is slowly being sucked back into the Gate. If _that's_ not my Equivalent Exchange, then I don't know what is."

There was a pause from the Gatekeeper, its lidless pupil boring into what felt like the very depths of Ed's soul.

_You are pressing your luck, alchemist,_ it said, almost warningly. _You are presumptuous in your demands and analysis of what you can consider yours to barter._

_But…_it reluctantly conceded after a pause, _the drain of your brother's life would indeed fulfill the necessary element of that part of the Toll._

Ed grinned. Let no one ever say he let the Gate get the better of him.

_However_ - the Gatekeeper's voice cut through his smug thoughts - _you still do not have the necessary Exchange to cross over._

Ed stared at the giant eye, his stomach dropping out from under him. "What…?"

_The suffering and hardships you endured over the last four years, plus the drain of your brother's life still does not cover the Toll required to let you through. You are not allowed to pass._

An angry growl escaped Ed's throat. "Damn it! I'm sick of playing these stupid little games of yours! If you won't let me through, then I'll _make_ you let me through!"

_Your efforts are useless, alchemist_, the Gatekeeper's voice echoed through the darkness. _You have no right to go against the Law of Equivalent Exchange._

"We'll see about that…" Ed snarled. Then, clapping his hands together, the blonde teenager made to transmute his automail arm into a blade.

But nothing happened.

Ed stared at his metal arm, unable to understand why it wouldn't change into his favorite weapon.

_You do not have the power of alchemy inside the Gate,_ the eye explained, as if reading the confused look on his face. _In this realm, alchemy is the thing that makes up the very essence of the Gate. Thus, it is not yours to command._

Edward stared up at the Gatekeeper, a strange sense of helplessness washing over him. He couldn't pass. He couldn't cross through the Gate of Truth to fix the Imbalance slowly killing his brother.

Al - Ed suddenly knew with a sickening sense of surety - was going to die…

_To be continued…_

* * *

Review! Review! Review! Please, please, please, please! 

It's only fair for your hardworking author to hear what you thought. I'd really like (no, _love!)_ to hear what you thought. (gives another pointed glare at lurking readers) Feedback is always rewarded with speedy updates.

Next time: _Chapter Four: Funeral Games_. Ed has been denied passage through the Gate of Truth with no other way to return. Time is running out. Al is starting to show signs of Wasting unaware of the danger he now faces as he, Roy, and everyone else prepare to say their final goodbyes to the Fullmetal Alchemist…

PLEASE REVIEW!


	4. Funeral Games

Sorry for the long delay, but I got stuck with a slight case of writer's block at several points and I wanted this chapter to be as close to perfect (at least in my mind) as I could make it. This chapter holds a special place in my heart. A lot of people in my family are or were in the military at some point, so I've been to a number of military funerals.

**Chapter Four: Funeral Games**

There was a distinct chill in the air. The sky stretched overhead like a sheet of metal - overcast and grey. The threat of rain whispered in the breeze, rustling leaves and stirring up the feelings of loneliness in the heart.

It was somehow fitting, Roy thought as he watched the countryside scroll past the window of his private car. It was like the world itself was in mourning, grieving the loss of one of its children.

The car was suffocatingly quiet. Riza said nothing as she drove, her eyes carefully turned forward as she led the procession of other cars behind them. Roy stared out the window, pointedly trying not to acknowledge the black hearse in front of them.

He had no desire to look at the morbid black vehicle. It conjured up too many painful images and thoughts. He didn't want to see the flag-covered casket it carried through its tinted back window, or be reminded that inside that box lay the remains of a fifteen year old boy.

He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think about the unfairness of life, the cruelties of fate, or the fact that it should be him riding in the back of that hearse in a silk lined coffin.

Carefully looking to his right, Mustang surreptitiously watched the silent figure beside him. A jolt of pain went through him at the sight, his heart aching with guilt.

Alphonse Elric lifelessly stared out the other side of the car. He hardly seemed aware of where he was or what he was looking at. His eyes were distant and filled with a sadness so hopeless Roy had to look away for a moment to compose himself before he was able to look at the boy again.

Al was dressed in a somber black suit that'd arrived just the night before with a short note from Gracia Hughes. _I hope this fits. The poor boy shouldn't have to go to his brother's funeral wearing nothing but his own skin. If you or he need anything else don't hesitate to call. Give Alphonse our love and condolences. Signed, Gracia and family,_ it'd said.

Roy had had to wait almost twenty minutes until he finally trusted his treacherous emotions enough to pull the suit from its box and give it to the grieving boy. It had then taken all of his resolve to keep said emotions in check when the boy had seen it and promptly burst into tears. It was for Roy possibly the single most heartbreaking sight he'd ever seen.

Mustang was actually surprised he'd been able to coax Al off his office couch long to put on the suit and attend Edward's funeral. Since the day of that fateful attack on Central Headquarters, Al had spoken barely five words and eaten nothing more than a few spoonfuls of soup Roy had managed to get in him. But that was it.

Roy was starting to truly worry. There were dark circles under the boy's eyes and his skin had taken on a slightly ashen hue. He was thinner too, having not eaten anything since his brother returned him to his original body. Roy knew if Al didn't start eating on his own soon he would have to step in and take measures to make sure the boy didn't starve himself. Al's face was becoming gaunt and had a dull, washed out look to it. His skin seemed stretched over his cheekbones, like it'd somehow been shrunk tight.

If Roy didn't know better, he would have almost said Al was wasting away before of his very eyes…

It was no wonder the boy looked so terrible really, Roy told himself. For the last two days Al had done nothing but grieve his older brother's passing. He still remembered with heart-wrenching vividness the look in the boy's eyes when they'd arrived at the funeral home that morning.

Because of the increased threat of rebel attacks, it'd been too dangerous to allow a wake or even several days of mourning for the young alchemist. With so many military personnel in attendance, there'd been concerns Fullmetal's funeral might become a rebel target. After all, if the Red Brigade was strong enough to launch a full scale attack on Central Headquarters, how much effort would it be for them to attack a small funeral?

And so, barely even two days after his untimely death, Edward Elric was to be laid to rest.

It had been a small reception. There hadn't been any priest or minister - Ed never had believed much in that type of thing. There'd only been a small group of family and friends. Because of aforementioned rebel attacks, there'd been no time to wait for the Rockbells to come, leaving Alphonse as Ed's only surviving family member there. Although surrounded by friends and close acquaintances, Roy knew how alone the boy must have felt standing there beside his brother's coffin.

He'd stayed beside him the entire time. Even when Gracia Hughes (accompanied by her husband and little daughter) had rushed up to Al and pulled the boy into a comforting hug did he leave Al's side. Many would have thought someone of his status would have tried passing the boy off onto someone else - not wanting to deal with the boy's grief anymore himself. But he refused to. Alphonse was his responsibility. Al was his charge, and he wasn't about to abandon the boy now. He owed him too much. Whether it was from a sense of responsibility or guilt (or some twisted combination of both), Roy Mustang saw the boy as his own. And no one - not even Gracia Hughes with her motherly hugs and soft words of comfort - was going to take Al away from him. He'd already lost one Elric brother. He wasn't going to lose the other…

Ed had looked almost peaceful laying in his silk-lined coffin, his dark eyelashes gently pressed to pale white cheeks. Despite the blood and grime covering the boy the last time Roy had seen the young alchemist - while he'd laid there dying in his arms - Ed's face was now clean. His hair had been washed and carefully braided the way Ed had so often worn it in life. If Roy hadn't known better, he would have almost said Ed was sleeping. But he knew better than think that. The boy lay there much too still to just be sleeping…

As a soldier befitting a military funeral, Ed had been dressed in a crisp blue military uniform. Roy had found the sight disquieting. It seemed wrong somehow. Ed had never worn a uniform in all his years of service. He'd always refused to wear what he'd called the military's 'collar.' He might be a dog of the military, but that didn't mean he had to dress like one, he'd said. For some reason, Roy had always respected him for that. But now, laying there in a small oak coffin, it seemed someone in the military had had the last say and made sure Edward Elric would be buried and remembered as one of their own - regardless of what the young alchemist might have had to say about it.

At least - Roy had thought with a hollow sense of consolation - above that formal blue uniform the boy's familiar red coat had been draped over his body like a blanket or some kind of mantle of honor. Over the years, the coat had become as distinctive a trait of the Fullmetal Alchemist as Ed's blonde hair and gold eyes. It would have been wrong not to bury him with it, Roy had thought with a pang of sorrow.

Roy felt tears sting the corners of his eyes at the memory, and only by looking away from the boy beside him was he able to regain control of his treacherous emotions. He couldn't break down, he kept telling himself. He had to be strong. Al needed him to be strong...

He still remembered the look on Al's face as they'd stood beside Ed's coffin to greet those that'd come to pay their final respects to the Fullmetal Alchemist. It was like only a part of Al was actually there - the rest of him locked away in some world of grief only he knew. Even when Gracia Hughes had drawn him into a tight embrace and murmured soft words of comfort in his ear, did the boy seem to come back to himself. As others came up to offer their own words of condolences, Al had remained quiet and passive, his eyes shining with unshed tears, but Roy was sure he'd never seen anyone's eyes ever look so hollow and… dead before.

Roy was brought out of his thoughts as the car slowly came to a stop. Looking out the window, he saw that they'd finally arrived. A field of clean cut grass stretched out before him - lined by neat, evenly spaced rows of dull white gravestones.

Taking a deep breath Roy began to open the door, but then stopped and glanced over his shoulder. Al hadn't made any move to get out. He just sat there, blankly staring out the other side of the car.

Roy had to force himself to find his voice. "Al?" he softly called.

The boy still didn't answer. He seemed oblivious to the colonel or anything else.

"Al?" Reaching out Mustang put a hand on the young boy's shoulder. That seemed to finally startle Al out of his thoughts. His bleary eyes slowly swiveled away from the window to look at Roy. Roy felt his throat constrict at the sight of the boy's grief-hollowed eyes. "Come on, Al," he softly urged. "We're here…"

Al nodded and slid across the seat to follow the colonel out his side of the car. Al said nothing as Roy shut the door behind them and emptily stared out across the quiet graveyard. Behind them, the rest of the funeral procession pulled to a stop and other people began getting out of their cars. In front of Mustang's car the hearse idled dolefully, its mournful cargo visible through its tinted back window.

As people began drifting towards the dug up area of ground several dozen yards away, six men stepped towards Hawkeye, Mustang, and Al.  
Armstrong, Hughes, Havoc, Breda, Fulman, and Fuery were all dressed in formal military attire, their faces solemn beneath dark blue caps. Not saying a word, they moved to the back of the hearse and gently slid the flag draped coffin out from inside it. Positioning themselves three to a side, the six hoisted their sorrowful burden up onto their shoulders and began moving towards the cluster of people gathered in the distance. Roy, Hawkeye, and Al silently fell into step behind them.

Roy walked with bowed head as they made their way towards the gravesite. If the situation had been different, he would have probably been one of Ed's pallbearers himself. But he refused to make Al walk behind his brother's casket with no one else there to stand beside him. That would have been too cruel.

Al silently walked beside Mustang and Hawkeye. He hardly seemed aware of where he was. Grief-laden eyes stared ahead, past his brother's coffin, into the distance. It was like Al couldn't bring himself to acknowledge the sorrowful procession he was a part of.

Finally coming to the site, the six lowered Ed's coffin onto a metal stand positioned over the rectangular hole that would soon become the fifteen year old alchemist's grave. With bowed heads, they then stepped back to join the rest of the group gathered around the small gravesite.

Besides those in Mustang's outfit, the Hugheses, and Major Armstrong, several other military people were in attendance. Standing together off to Mustang's left were Lieutenant Maria Ross and Sergeant Denny Brosh. Both their faces were shadowed - hidden beneath the brims of their military caps; but Mustang thought he saw a silent tear streak down Maria Ross's cheek as the six pallbearers stepped away from Ed's casket. Behind them, dressed in civilian clothes with her head lowered, was the quirky little librarian Roy remembered Hughes once telling him he'd found to work in Investigations after Central's Military Library burned down. Sheska, her name was, if he remembered correctly…

Behind them, several yards away, stood seven uniformed soldiers. Each had a rifle in their hand and stood at attention in a solemn line. Another soldier stood off to their side, a trumpet in his hand.

As the small group of mourner waited, another figure stepped forward. Roy didn't know who the man was, but by the stripes on his military jacket he saw that he was a second-lieutenant of some sort.

The man slowly came to stand at the foot of Ed's coffin and turned so that he was facing the rest of them.

"We come here today to honor Edward Elric, State Certified 'Fullmetal' Alchemist," the man began, his tone low and formal. "It is on behalf of the Fuhrer King Bradley that I bestow upon Edward Amestris's Gold Combat Star and its highest award, the Medal of Honor, for his bravery and heroic deeds in the course of battle."

He stepped towards Al - Ed's only surviving family member there. "Please accept these on behalf of the country of Amestris along with its heartfelt condolences," he said, and held out two velvet boxes.

Al silently took them, his head bowed low. Roy couldn't see Al's face through the boy's bangs, but he saw the way Al seemed to clutch Ed's awards to him as if trying to somehow reach out through them and regain some small piece of his older brother.

Drawing another box from his pocket, the officer opened it and presented it to the grieving boy. "As a State Alchemist, Edward upheld the Alchemist's code of service and loyalty to the end. He will be missed."

Sitting in the box's velvet lined bottom was Ed's silver State Alchemist watch.

Roy felt his heart clench with a renewed rush of grief. His throat tightened dangerously, but he managed to fight back the sting of tears burning the corners of his eyes. He had to be strong for Al…

Al silently took this third box and held it to his chest, bowing his head over it.

His job now complete, the officer stepped away. As two other men moved forward and began to lower Ed's coffin into the ground, the soldiers that'd been standing at attention several yards away stepped forward.

The one with the trumpet slowly raised the instrument to his lips and began the opening bars of Taps.

"Present!" one of the armed soldiers yelled as the trumpet continued to sing its mournful tune.

In perfect unison, the seven soldiers raised their rifles to their shoulders and aimed into the air.

"Fire!"

A deafening blast echoed across the cemetery.

Beside him, Roy saw Al flinch at the sound - the boy clutching Ed's awards and silver watch closer to his chest. Behind him, Mustang heard several muffled sobs over the haunting melody still playing in the background. Gracia Hughes and Major Armstrong were now openly crying - tears falling freely down their faces - while several others had their heads suspiciously lowered and hidden from view behind their cap visors. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Havoc surreptitiously reach up and wipe a hand across his eyes. As always, Hawkeye remained stoic although her eyes were unusually shiny and damp.

"Ready! Fire!"

Another round of gunfire sliced the air.

Al was now half hunched over the things in his arms. Despite the boy's bangs, Roy saw tears begin to bead along Al's clenched eyelashes, as if he was fighting to hold in his despair.

As the seven gun honor salute took aim and fired their final volley, the men that had lowered Ed's coffin into the ground approached with shovels and began scooping mounds of dirt into the hole. A series of hollow thunks echoed out of the alchemist's grave as the clods of dirt hit the top of Ed's coffin.

Roy was sure he'd never heard such a terrible sound in his entire life.

"Mama," Elysia Hughes' tiny voice spoke up. She gently tugged at her mother's skirt. "Why are they burying Ed? Papa said he was looking for something important. How's he going to find it if they bury him?" She turned and looked up at her father. "Papa, how's Ed going to find what he's looking for if they bury him?"

Despite his own resolve to keep from breaking down, Roy saw his friend's already strained expression shatter like a piece of glass. Maes quickly hid his face behind the brim of his cap but Roy saw several tears streak down his cheeks and his shoulders begin to shake. Gracia Hughes and several other attendees promptly dissolved into tears at the girl's innocent question.

"Papa? Papa, why are they burying Ed? You said he had something important to find. He can't look for it if they bury him. You have to stop them, papa. Make them stop."

Tears streaming down his stubbled face, Hughes bent down and scooped Elysia into his arms, muffling his daughter's plaintive cries into his shoulder. He hugged her almost desperately to him, as if trying to reassure himself she was still there and alive unlike the boy he'd come to see as a son now laying under a thin layer of dirt.

Unable to stand Elysia's confused cries and the sight of his older brother's coffin being slowly buried anymore, the floodgates of Alphonse's grief finally broke. The boy's shoulder began to shake, his entire body quaking with the force of his grief. Tears spilled from his eyes and bathed his cheeks in long, salty tracks.

Roy felt his heart break at the sight. No longer caring what anyone else might think, the colonel reached out and drew Al to him, steadying the younger alchemist against his side in a strong, one arm embrace.

Al leaned into him, lost in his sorrow. His painful sobs echoed across the cemetery as he clung to Mustang as if he was the only thing tethering him to reality.

Holding the boy close, Mustang struggled to think of something to say - some words of condolence or comfort. But he could think of nothing that could possibly alleviate the poor boy's pain. All he could do was pull Al closer, offering him a silent pillar of support on which to grieve. He desperately wished he could join the boy in his grief -to openly mourn the fifteen year old alchemist now laying under a thin layer of dirt - but he fought back the tears. He had to remain strong for Al.

"Come on, Al," he softly whispered, and began to lead the grieving boy away, his arm still protectively wrapped around Al's shoulder. There was no reason to make Al suffer anymore by watching them finish burying Ed.

Al gave no resistance, his tear streaked face bowed to his chest. He heavily leaned against the colonel as if he no longer had any strength to stand on his own. Ed's awards and silver watch were almost desperately clutched to his chest, as if they were somehow Al's last connection to his dead brother and he feared releasing his grip on them.

Roy felt everyone else's gaze follow him and Al as he led his young charge away. He could feel the sympathy in their eyes - the sorrow. As Hawkeye fell into step beside them, the small group of mourners began to break up and drift back towards the line of cars.

Helping Al into the car, Roy gave one last look back towards the men filling in Ed's grave. Watching them scoop shovel after shovel of dirt into the dark, rectangular hole, Roy felt his throat constrict. He saw his vision momentarily blurred.

It was so wrong… It should be him in that grave right now, not Ed. Ed had been so young, so full of life. He'd only barely begun to live…

"Colonel?" Hawkeye's voice drifted to him from behind. Her voice was unusually strained and laced with concern.

"I'm fine," Roy murmured. Bowing his head so his military cap hid his face, he ducked inside the car, sliding in next to Al. He refused to look up and meet Hawkeye's eyes as she sat behind the wheel and glanced in the rearview mirror. Reaching over, Roy once again pulled Al into a comforting one armed embrace. The boy willing leaned against him, burying his face in the colonel's side. His hollow sobs echoed through the car's otherwise silent interior.

As Mustang hugged the boy close he momentarily wondered if he was really trying to comfort Al, or himself.

Looking up, Roy softly murmured, "Let's go…"

The car sputtered to life, and they pulled away.

Hugging Al's sobbing form closer, Roy glanced one last time out the back window. The cemetery was now almost completely empty except for the two men filling in Ed's grave. Their shovels moved back and forth, back and forth; scooping up dirt and depositing it in the hole. It was so rhythmic, so sad…

He continued to watch them as Hawkeye pressed the accelerator and the two men began to fade into the distance.

And as they turned a bend that would lead them out of the cemetery back to the main road, a lone tear slipped down Roy Mustang's face and disappeared into the dark fabric of his uniform…

To Be Continued...

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This chapter was actually suppose to be twice as long, but I decided it might be better if it was cut in two. Plus, I didn't want to leave everyone waiting any longer for an update.

PLEASE REVIEW!

-LAXgirl


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